


Hold On

by highkingmariot



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post 4x06, Suicidal Ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 00:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17971310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highkingmariot/pseuds/highkingmariot
Summary: He paced toward the couch and back again, filled to the brim with fight and nowhere to put it. Realising that his hands were shaking, he stopped at the kitchen bench, pressing his hands flat against the surface. He ducked his head, breathing, trying to breathe, trying to find some semblance of calm but he couldn’t move past the Monster’s carelessness with Eliot’s body. The thought of him killing Eliot because he was bored, or frustrated, or just to get a rise out of him sent a panic through him and he was done, he was done tiptoeing around him and trying to avoid setting him off. He wasn’t going to just sit by and watch him – fucking – step out in front of a truck, or overdose for the fun of it, or –----Immediately after Quentin faces down the Monster, he struggles to keep his emotions locked down. Julia sees more than he bargains for.





	Hold On

His whole body vibrating with rage, Quentin strode into the bedroom, dropping onto his knees to scoop up the last of the pills from the floor. The Monster had dropped the bottle and he picked that up too, tipping the pills inside. Replacing the lid, he tucked the bottle into his pocket and walked back into the living room, feeling a spike of bitter gratitude that the Monster had gone… wherever he had gone. He was too angry to care, too angry to deal with him, too angry to – to – to even think.

He paced toward the couch and back again, filled to the brim with _fight_ and nowhere to put it. Realising that his hands were shaking, he stopped at the kitchen bench, pressing his hands flat against the surface. He ducked his head, breathing, trying to breathe, trying to find some semblance of calm but he couldn’t move past the Monster’s carelessness with Eliot’s body. The thought of him killing Eliot because he was bored, or frustrated, or just to get a rise out of him sent a panic through him and he was _done,_ he was done tiptoeing around him and trying to avoid setting him off. He wasn’t going to just sit by and watch him – fucking – step out in front of a _truck_ , or overdose for the _fun of it_ , or –

“Quentin.”

Julia’s voice was quiet, her tone wary, and he squeezed his eyes shut. There was still – so _much_ in him, and he wasn’t ready to figure out how to deal with that yet. “I’m fine,” he said roughly.

After a moment he felt a hand on his arm, the touch soft but incessant, and he sighed as he let her turn him around to face her. He met her eyes reluctantly as she slid her hands up his arms, but by the time her fingers touched gently at his jaw he couldn’t take the knowledge and sadness in them for another second. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s fine,” he lied again, pulling away when her fingertips brushed against the tender skin underneath his jaw. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m worried about _you_.”

Uncomfortable, he turned away and, catching sight of the bar on the other side of the room, walked over and poured a glass half full with whiskey. Draining half of it, he topped it up again and took a deep breath, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. “I’m –“

“Fine,” Julia said flatly. “Sure, you said that already.”

His hand tightened on the glass, and he forced himself to loosen his grip slightly. “I really don’t want to do this right now,” he said, his edges starting to fray. The dead look in Eliot’s eyes as the Monster had stared him down through them sent a shiver through him that didn’t stop, and he tucked his hand under his armpit to hide the trembling.

“I don’t either.” He glanced over to see that she’d moved around the kitchen island but hadn’t ventured further across the room. She didn’t sound angry, just cautious, and that was unequivocally worse. “I also don’t want you to get yourself killed.”

His chest was too tight – god, he just needed this to _stop_. “It’s _Eliot_ , Julia.”

“You can’t save Eliot if you let him kill you.”

“I can’t save Eliot if he lets Eliot’s body die.” He couldn’t even… think… _fuck._ Bringing the glass to his lips, he gulped at the whiskey, trying to chase away the image of Eliot’s body strewn out across the floor, his chest still, his eyes open and staring.

“Q,” Julia said, calmly, and some layer in her voice tugged at him so imploringly that he couldn’t help but look up at her. She’d taken a few steps toward him, and when he met her eyes she lifted the corner of her mouth in a sad smile. “How long have you been in love with him?”

He looked at her, just looked at her, as he felt the tenuous threads holding his heart together start to break apart. Because of course she’s figured it out. He’d never been very good at hiding things from her. The laughter that bubbled up out of his throat felt like a bitter sort of release, but he didn’t know what else to do. “For a lifetime.”

Something passed over Julia’s face, something like knowing. “When you used the mosaic to get the key? You told me the two of you lived out your lives there. You were together, weren’t you?”

 _Together._ He had enough love in his heart to last a lifetime, because of the life that they’d lived _together._ “Yeah.” His voice cracked, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Yeah. We were. And – when we got those memories…” That day was burned into his memory forever. That flood of _years_ , all at once, taking him over completely. Years with Arielle, years with Eliot, years with Teddy, Teddy’s children… a while life. Sometimes it felt more real to him than the years that this body had actually lived through. The memories were so real, as though he’d jumped from one reality for fifty years and then right back into his own. He still didn’t understand how it worked, but he felt it with all his heart. And that… their conversation right after it had hit him, those few minutes that he’d tried so hard to push down, to not let it affect their friendship because he wouldn’t do _anything_ to risk whatever relationship he could have with Eliot. Except… “I didn’t think he wanted me, Jules, but…”

Julia took another step toward him. “But maybe he does?”

Exhaling slowly, he shook his head at her helplessly. “But maybe he does,” he said, his mouth twisting back and forth between a smile and a grimace. _Peaches and plums, motherfucker._ Even now, just thinking of that moment, of the beseeching look on Eliot’s face as he’d thrown those words at him, was too much. He didn’t know what to do with this utterly destroying range of feelings. And regardless of that, regardless of whether Eliot wanted him, actually wanted him, he knew without a doubt that he would fight tooth and nail to save him as long as he was alive. “But – it doesn’t matter, not really, I just – I just need him back,” he said helplessly.

It sounded so damned simple. _I just need him back._ If only it were so easy.

“Okay,” Julia said simply, as though it was. Closing the distance between them, she wrapped her hands around his arms, looking up at him with determination. “But not at the risk of your own life. Just because he has some weird obsession with being your friend doesn’t mean that he won’t hurt you if you make him angry. You want him to take better care of Eliot’s body? You gotta take better care of yours.”

He should have felt more touched that Julia cared so much. He just felt exhausted. “He’s not going to kill me. He needs us to help him get his body back. He knows you won’t help him if he kills me."

Julia reached up to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing over his skin, and he felt himself starting to tip at the easy affection she was giving him. “Maybe, but were you really thinking about that when you told him to _break your bones_?”

Quentin shook his head, but he couldn’t make his mouth form the denial. He swallowed hard at the burning lump in his throat, but it wouldn’t go away. He couldn’t take it anymore, he couldn’t, but Eliot was _alive in there, I’m alive in here, who gets proof of concept like that?_ “I’m just so tired, Jules. I – I thought he was _dead_ , and –“ All at once it flooded over him – the grief that he’d felt like an empty void sudden opened up in his chest, the hope and joy that had overcome him when he’d realised that he was _alive_ , he was _alive,_ quickly followed by panic at the thought that they were about to trap him forever in Blackspire. Hearing the Monster talk about how he’d almost let himself be hit by a _truck_ , and the sight of those pills in his hand… He’d only just found out that he wasn’t dead after all, and if he killed Eliot’s body before they could get him back…

He felt himself starting to crumble, but then Julia’s arms came around him, pulling him close, holding him together. Turning his head, he buried his face into her hair, clutching at her blindly, his lungs starting to burn. For the first time in who even knew how long, he felt like he could let go in her arms, in her warmth and familiarity and comfort, and he finally let himself break down, his tears falling hot into her hair. “Oh, god,” he gasped, and felt Julia’s arms tighten around him, one hand stroking slowly up and down his back. “I can’t – I can’t let him be gone forever, Jules – I can’t –“

“I know,” she whispered, her other hand on the back of his head, just like Eliot used to do, and his next breath came out in a sob.

Eventually his tears stopped flowing and he finally managed to draw a full breath. Julia pulled back, wiping at his cheeks with a gentle touch. “We’re going to save him,” she said firmly, and he felt too raw for the earnestness in her eyes. “Okay? Quentin, we are going to save him. We’ll build this new body, rescue Eliot, and then figure the rest out.”

Sniffing, he nodded silently, and felt a touch of guilt at the relief he caught in her eyes. She was right. He couldn’t save Eliot if he was dead.

He could hold himself together for that long, at least.


End file.
